


Saving Grace

by Irony_Rocks



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-02
Updated: 2010-08-02
Packaged: 2017-10-10 21:55:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/104712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irony_Rocks/pseuds/Irony_Rocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Lucifer arises, Anna is across the globe in the shambles of a tiny village outside Fallujah. This is just the beginning. The road ahead will be long and unforgiving.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saving Grace

* * *

_"Wild, dark times are rumbling toward us, and the prophet who wishes to write a new apocalypse will have to invent entirely new beasts, and beasts so terrible that the ancient animal symbols of St. John will seem like cooing doves and cupids in comparison."_

\- HEINRICH HEINE, "Lutetia; or, Paris," Augsberg Gazette, 1842

* * *

When the moment of his end arrives, Castiel feels strangely still and calm. If this is fate, then he will not cower before it. He lifts his head, defying the Archangel with his last breath. His eyes drift closed, and he prays for benediction from a Father he has never doubted. The skin on his hands turns translucent with a white burst of light.

Then he's somewhere else – safe, unharmed, not even a wound to show for his troubles. If there was something in between, some moment of peace, some glimpse of Heaven or Hell or his long wished desire to see Father, well, it isn't for Castiel to recall. In the wake of the all-consuming light, Castiel knows the Archangel hadn't managed to kill him. There are only so many things in this universe that can overpower an Archangel.

This is just the beginning, he realizes. The road ahead will be long and unforgiving.

* * *

When Lucifer arises, Anna is across the globe in the shambles of a tiny village outside Fallujah. There is a small girl there named Fatima, no older than seven, with green eyes and a special gift for foresight. Anna must protect her, but as a convoy takes a hit outside her home and a grenade explodes in the distance, something distracts Anna.

A quiver runs through her, dark and insidious, and she looks to the sky for a warning. Thunder rolls, lightning strikes hard pavement, and Anna stares, feeling battered and broken without a single wound to show for it.

"He's here," Fatima warns in a whisper, scared and breathless. "And he wants blood."

"Who?"

"Lucifer," she sobs.

* * *

What does he do now?

He's rebelled and he has nobody to turn to and nowhere to go. There is no beaten path beneath his feet and no divining knowledge. Castiel can only afford so many mistakes before the end of the world arrives, and the orders to follow are now that of the enemy. _Angels are his enemies._

Times ticks by, and Castiel feels... doubt.

The taste of it is choking.

* * *

Days later in Omaha, the crisp night air is cool against her skin as Anna walks down the middle of the street. The neighborhood is silent, the streetlamps flicker, and only the faint flutter of wings can be heard as an Angel lands beside her.

"I thought you were dead."

Castiel's gaze falls away, betraying emotions he's not entirely sure he knows how to feel. "The rumors of my demise were greatly exaggerated."

"You were Saved," Anna realizes.

Castiel looks no different than before, but he, like her, is considered fallen now. He says nothing, merely stands still beside her as Anna processes everything his presence means. Silence stretches, and Anna can read his mannerisms well. There is barely a flicker of change, but she learned long ago that Castiel had depths in him he tried so hard to hide, even from himself. She always saw them just the same.

"I don't know what to do," Castiel confesses, when the beat of silence has gone on too long. "I feel so… aimless. Uncertain."

She knows this pain.

"That's what happens when you start to think for yourself after millenniums of blind faith."

He turns to her, looking lost. "Am I supposed to be faithless now?"

Six thousand years before the birth of Christ, Castiel first came to her. He had been different then, with long raven hair and light blue eyes, a white cloth that flowed to his feet. But he was graceful and bright, so young and eager when she had first taken him under her wing. She had given Castiel his first mission, and he had obeyed with pride.

"You were Saved, weren't you? We have to have faith, Castiel. I know it seems bleak now, but we have to give it time."

"We don't have time," Castiel argues. "The Garrison has been amassed and we are outnumbered and overpowered. Zachariah is gaining followers with every second that Lucifer stands solid on Earth. The Archangels will come soon. We can't fight them all."

"We must," Anna insists. "And for that, we need help."

"We're the last two. The only two. Everyone else thinks that our Father is gone."

* * *

Castiel returns to Dean, and there he waits for what will most likely be his death. The powers of Raphael are well known, and there is little to no chance that Castiel will survive a clash with him. Dean responds to this by proclaiming a night of decadence and sinful fornication is in order.

Castiel has never in his many years felt a fear like this before.

"Seriously, _never?_" Dean exclaims in the car ride. "You got the equipment, right? Never glanced twice at a woman and thought about putting it to use?"

Castiel tries to resist the urge to squirm. "My duties with humans precluded such relations."

"What about fellow angels? You could have done relations with 'em, right?"

He thinks immediately of Anna. His superior, at one time. His friend, soon after. She had been his closest confidant before her fall from grace, and there had been… feelings involved. Castiel can recognize them now, in hindsight, as the seeds of his rebellion. Dean nurtured them to fruition, but it was Anna that had planted them in the first place.

Dean grins. "Well, it's your lucky day. Finally. Tonight we're gonna get you laid."

Castiel decides not to tell Dean that he is relieved more than anything when those plans fall apart at the seams.

* * *

Anna strokes Fatima's hair. "What is it? You look scared, sweetie."

"He's angry about being trapped," the girl confides.

"Who?"

Fatima clings to Anna's side. "Raphael."

* * *

When Castiel returns from facing Raphael, Anna is waiting for him. He doesn't know how she knows, but he isn't surprised either. Anna has always been one of the most resourceful angels among them; it was one of the things that made her fall so unsettling.

"How did it go?"

Castiel ignores her question. "You shouldn't be here. The circle will not hold Raphael for long and he will escape. He'll come looking for me, then. It's wiser if we stay separate."

It would be safer for her, in any case.

"You're not alone, Cas," Anna counters. "Besides, divide and conquer, remember?"

"Prudence demands we take extra precautions."

"A little late, don't you think? Most of the effective precautions we'd normally use were thrown out the window when Lucifer rose."

"We can't afford to get sloppy—"

"I know," Anna cuts in. "Trust me, I know how to lie low. I can avoid detection like nobody else. I've been doing this longer than you have, remember? Trust me."

Castiel looks to her. "I do."

* * *

A week later, Anna almost has to eat her words. The angel Briathos locates her when she's alone in Brisbane, and pretty much kicks the crap out of her three ways from Sunday.

Standing almost triumphant by the charred remains of a fallen Church, Briathos quotes, "Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. There will be great earthquakes, famines and pestilences in various places, and fearful events and great signs from heaven. But before all this, they will lay hands on you and persecute you."

Luke 21:11.

Beaten and bloody, she struggles to choke out, "All men will hate you because of me. But not a hair of your head will perish. By standing firm you will gain life."

Luke 21:17.

She swings out to connect with his jaw, and Briathos stumbles back with the blow.

"Also," she adds as an afterthought, advancing. "Fuck you."

* * *

One morning, Castiel meets Anna over scrambled eggs and a cup of coffee. The diner is small and secluded, and he watches her consume a meal he's seen Dean have on more than one occasion.

"You want some?" she asks, holding up a forkful of eggs.

Castiel stares, unsure.

She smiles, teasingly. "Relax, Cas. It's not like it's an apple."

After a pause, he leans forward and draws his mouth over her fork, chewing slowly. After a moment, he says, "It needs more salt."

Her smile grows into a small laugh.

* * *

Sometime after seeing the third town torn to shreds, Anna spends three restless nights consumed with doubts. It isn't something new. She's _always_ had doubts – or at least, it feels that way to her. The rebel outcast. The questioning voice. The insecurity of any answer. Anna has never been complacent, and while at first that meant she was prime for leadership positions among the garrison, now it means a life of servitude to uncertainty.

She has been alone for so long with this uncertainty, she isn't sure how to share it with anyone else. Even Castiel, though she knows he suffers the same illness. But he is so young in his doubts, so fragile in his beliefs. She doesn't want to add to the weight of them by sharing her own misgivings.

Instead, she does something she hasn't done in a long time.

She prays.

* * *

Castiel pulls Dean free from the clutches of Zachariah, almost too late but once again just in time. Something has changed, though. He senses a disturbance in Dean's aura, like something in the wake of a temporal shift.

They stand by the side of the road, and Dean pulls his cell free. "Sammie?" Dean says. "I've changed my mind. We gotta meet up."

Castiel keeps his surprise to himself.

* * *

"Famine," Fatima warns, crying. "They will be _so_ hungry, so hopeless. I can hear them crying for food."

"Shh," Anna soothes, gently stroking her hair. "Where, Fatima? Tell me where?"

* * *

Castiel hangs up the phone, and then appears in the backseat of Dean's car with little forewarning. "Dean, Sam," he greets the brothers. "We need to talk."

"Figured," Dean replied, shutting off his cell.

"Hey, Cas," Sam greets.

"Not that I'm not happy to see you, Cas, but this is bad timing. We just got a lead on the Colt."

"We have bigger concerns. Another Horsemen," Castiel informs. "Famine."

Dean rolls his eyes. "Great. Just friggin' great. Where?"

"Western states. California, possibly. He's been there since last week."

"How do you know?" Sam asks.

"Anna told me."

Dean pauses. "Anna? You've been in contact with her?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

Castiel looks to Dean, confused. "You didn't ask."

* * *

Dean sends them chasing after the Colt in Atlanta. Anna hasn't seen Dean in months, nearly a year, actually, mostly because Cas put guards in place so that no Angel could find the Winchester boys. It wouldn't be that difficult to get in contact, though. She just hasn't had reason to, yet, and it doesn't seem to matter anyway.

Castiel is in constant contact with him, and that's enough for them both.

Castiel hangs up the phone, and Anna gets a brief, comical image of him standing in a Sprint store trying to buy a cell phone plan suitable for his needs. She wonders if he has text.

"We'll have to wait until nightfall to approach the demons," Castiel says, "They shouldn't know we're coming for them."

"Do you really think the Colt is here?"

"No," Castiel answers. "But Dean asked."

She pauses, nodding, then turns the corner. "How is Sam doing?"

"Dean says he's adjusting fine."

She stays silent. Both know well enough that addressing any doubts will merely be retreading old ground.

They come upon a drunk man on the sidewalk preaching about the apocalypse. "Did you hear? The end is now, man! But don't blame yourself. The apocalypse isn't your fault. Actually, it's just as much your fault as it is anyone else's. Well, hell, maybe since we're American, it's probably more our fault than anyone else's. But don't let that get you down! It isn't exclusively your fault! Unless you're the President. Then it might be your fault."

Castiel stops before him, always informing. "President Obama has nothing to do with the end of times and the forthcoming of Lucifer's reign."

"Says you!" he shouts back angrily, waving an empty bottle in the air. "Bunch of bleeding heart liberals are gonna get everybody killed!"

Anna nudges Castiel along before he can respond.

* * *

Castiel once tries to sleep, but it doesn't work. He thinks that might be for the best. Dreams are probably not something he wishes to discover under the current circumstances. He does not think it would bring him any peace.

There is only one thing in all of existence that could bring him that.

* * *

For once, Fatima smiles up at Anna with hope and joy in her eyes. "Help is coming."

"Is it?"

"A woman," she replies. "Mary Winchester."

* * *

Raphael breaks out and Castiel is one of the first to find out. He is slammed against the wall, pinned, and the grip of strong fingers curl around his throat. Raphael's power overwhelms Castiel as he always knew it would.

"Betrayal," Raphael seethes. "You have forsaken your own kind for the likes of vermin. Such sacrilege, and for what? To follow who?"

"Our Father," Castiel chokes out, barely alive. "I do everything for our Father."

Raphael releases Castiel to crumble to the floor in a heap. "Our Father is gone. He doesn't care, or he's dead. Either way, it doesn't matter. We are alone, Castiel. We have been alone for a while. It's time you accept that."

Castiel looks up, pushing off the ground with his hands. "I will never turn my back on my faith."

Raphael smiles. "I remember, long ago, being like that. My faith was as unshakable as Heaven itself. It could endure hatred, blood, massacres, brutality, and all the sins of mankind combined. It just couldn't ignore the neglect. Where is our Father now, Castiel? Why hasn't He rewarded you for your faith? Where is He?"

The words cause Castiel to flinch.

"Faith is not self-serving," Castiel insists, rising to stand. His vision blurs, and his legs feel frail and abused. "I do not act to save myself. Only to save the world."

Raphael snorts a laugh. "Everything is self-serving. It is foolish and naïve to think otherwise, and that is why I became an Archangel, and you are about to die."

Castiel knew this moment was a long time coming. "Then so be it."

Raphael advances. "Don't worry. There will only be excruciating pain for a moment, and then everything will—"

White light blinds him, and then Castiel is somewhere else. With Anna. His knees give way, body falling to the ground in weakness and relief. She catches him at the sides, leading his beaten body to a nearby chair.

"I was coming to see you," Anna explains, "and saw you had company already."

* * *

"Raphael—"

"Can't touch us," Anna assures. "Not here. I've taken precautions. Relax, Cas. Rest."

Castiel closes his eyes, flinching against some lingering pain from Raphael's assault. When she tends to his wounds, Anna's fingers come away slippery with his blood. She feels ill just looking at him, but his body is already mending. She knows his mind and worries are going to be less easily persuaded.

"What are we supposed to do, Anna?" he says, sounding broken. "Our brethren are on a crusade to destroy the world. Where is Father?"

She has no answers, so she reaches out to press a chaste kiss to his lips. "Rest, Cas. You need to recover."

When she leaves the room, Castiel stares after her.

* * *

Dean kills Famine. Sam kills Conquest. Death has yet to come, but Castiel knows the last Horseman is not far from arriving. Whispers grow of Michael's presence, elusive and indistinct. Dean seems more agitated these days, and Castiel wonders if Michael is visiting him during his dreams.

Dean won't say yes. Castiel is sure of this.

"We need the damn Colt," Dean mutters angrily.

Sam scrubs a hand through his hair, looking just as tired and worn-out. Castiel doesn't dare to hazard a guess about Sam's dreams, but Castiel can only imagine what Lucifer shows him in enticement.

Castiel wishes he wasn't as sure of this, but he is: Sam will say yes.

* * *

She returns to Fallujah to find Fatima's small body lying broken on the ground. There are scorch marks on the floor, and the faint aroma of sulfur hanging in the air. Anna looks to the small figure, feeling her eyes sting and her breath hitch.

Seven years old. Only seven.

She finds Castiel in Memphis. "Is this all that is left?" she asks him, voice broken and frail and yet _angry_. "Violence, misery and endless death? Is this it?"

She wants to scream more. _Where is our Father in all of this? Why doesn't He come and help us? Why does He make us do this alone?_ She says nothing instead.

"Anna."

There is something quiet and knowing in Castiel's voice that makes Anna not want to look. She knows this is weakness. She knows this is petty doubt: what is one more girl's death when the entire world is on fire? The thought tastes like bitter acid in her throat, and she blinks back tears.

Too much, too much, too much, this is too much—

She breaks under the thought, and then her lips are crashing against his in a violent embrace. She feels his surprise, his shock, but Anna overrides his hesitancy with a certainty of her own. There are some roads that when you start down, you can't reverse, and they've been headed down this path for what seems like millennia. She pushes their bodies back to collide against a wall, and Anna's tongue is in his mouth, forcing a broken moan from him that sends her into overdrive.

Minutes pass, and when they break for air, Castiel's voice is unlike anything she's ever heard. "Anna," he says her name, but this time he is breathless and confused and _aroused._ "Anna?"

She doesn't want to think.

She feels the desire in him pressed against her thigh, but he does not know how to navigate through this, so Anna guides him. She tugs off his trench coat and sheds his jacket. Without a word, only through looks and touches, she moves him to the bed where she lays him down and straddles his waist. Her hair is pulled up in a ponytail, and she frees the binding to let the red strands curtain around her face.

While she undresses, both him and her, want tightens his voice, crisping his tone into something low and reverent. "I don't know… I've never…"

"Shh," she whispers, silencing him with a kiss.

Soon she pulls him in, deeper even as he keeps thrusting up, moving with long hard strokes. She kisses him, lips on his mouth, his throat, his body, and his fingers find her hips, digging in as they move against each other. The slapping staccato of him working beneath her, his groans, the hitch of breath as he says her name – she knows she's teaching him well and Castiel proves to be a quick learner.

His fingers furrow through her sweat-damp hair. "Can't—" he gasps, closing his eyes, voice choked. "God."

* * *

In the morning, Castiel lies still in bed while Anna's body curls around him, asleep. Slumber is a luxury he has never acquired, and so he uses the opportunity instead to think about Anna. They are two threads cross-stitched in time and fate, and now they lie together having crossed a line etched in stone.

Long ago, Castiel had been convinced that she was an angel that would climb the garrison and reach to her Father's feet. He was so sure she was the one that would guide him through darkness and any doubt. She would teach him the path.

Several thousand years later, there are still days when he wonders if she is his only saving grace.

* * *

Weeks later, Anna goes to Rome where there are demon whispers of the Colt. It turns out to be a lie, but it gives her an excuse to leave the country for a while. Unlike most of the world, Rome is still fairly intact. She wonders why, but she doesn't let the question linger.

Two days in Rome, and then another angel finds her.

"Hello, Anna," he greets, and the temporary vessel he uses is already beginning to break around the seams. She can tell. "It's been a long time."

Anna tries to stay calm, voice steady, "Hello, Michael."

* * *

Castiel reunites with Sam and Dean on the road to Toledo, and the atmosphere is grim. Lucifer has been waging war on the western hemisphere and he seems to be winning. The Croatoan virus has spread across three cities in Ohio, and Sam carries a shotgun with him in the front passenger seat just in case they run into any unexpected trouble on the road.

Silence stretches long and thick, and it takes Castiel a while to realize that the tension has more to do with the brothers than the road. A fight, he realizes – then quickly amends. _Another_ fight.

"So, Cas," Dean says, when he breaks the hush in forced joviality. "Anything new lately?"

Castial pauses for a moment, thinking. He finally settles upon an answer. "I had sexual relations with Anna."

The car nearly swerves off the road. While Sam coughs up an awkward _uh, good for you, man?_ response, Dean quickly pulls the car over to the hard shoulder. Castiel finds both brothers staring at him.

A grin stretches across Dean's face. "Seriously?"

Castiel somberly holds up two fingers. "Twice."

The tension between the brothers seems forgotten for a second as they trade looks with each other.

"My boy's all grown up and getting laid," Dean approves.

* * *

"This is the way it has to be, Anna. It's all about the blood."

"I can't accept that."

"You will. The world will crumble otherwise."

* * *

Castiel stands guard in front of the motel window while Dean and Sam sleep.

Both have nightmares.

* * *

When the End approaches, Anna does what she has to do. She removes Mary Winchester from a spot in 1974 and brings her forward 35 years to the present timeline. Mary is beautiful, with short blond hair that curls around her jaw, and a yellow sundress that flows down to her knees. She is the happy new wife to John Winchester, but Anna knows this other woman is far from naïve or carefree for a so-called blushing new bride.

"What am I doing here?" Mary demands, facing off against Anna with a hunter stance. "Who are you? _What_ are you?"

"I'm an Angel," Anna replies. "And I brought you to 2009 because I need you to stop a deal with the devil."

Mary's breath hitches, and almost despite herself, voices, "Azazel?"

Anna shakes her head. "If only."

* * *

"He's gone!" Dean rages, almost frantically. "I get up in the middle of the night, and Sammie's gone like the fucking wind."

"Do you know where?"

"If I knew where, Cas, I wouldn't have dialed 1-800-Angel, would I? We gotta find him."

Castiel looks out the window, seeing a red dawn. "Where do we start?"

Dean breathes in and out through his nose, jaw clenched, chewing on his aggression, and then says, "You call in every favor that you have. It's Lucifer. I can feel it in my bones."

* * *

She long ago stopped believing in prophesy, in destiny - in the wicked, twisted hand of fate.

Or so she tells herself.

* * *

Two days, two full days of searching and Dean and Castiel finally find word of Sam in the small town of Alberta. The place has been run over by Croats, and Castiel can see the malevolence within the town like a bale of smoke rising in the wind.

"Sam's gonna be in the place most heavily guarded," Dean says.

Castiel looks past the town square, to the edge where a Church stands heavily defended.

* * *

Anna watches as Mary Winchester flips the demon on his back and fires the shotgun. Her hair flares around her in a crown of locks as she whirls, blocking an attack and sends another demon twice her size reeling back to the ground with another blast.

"Run!" Anna shouts, struggling against a demon of her own.

"You can't fight all of these—"

"Go, Mary!" Anna insists, knocked hard against the wall. "Sam doesn't have time!"

Mary must have heard the finality in the order. There would be no more time to table any options, no time for the arguments that both wanted to voice. The demons are too many, and there are just two of them.

Mary runs past, through the open doors.

Anna fights on.

* * *

When inside the Church they find Anna fighting against an overwhelming number of demons, Castiel and Dean quickly join the fray to make quick work of the enemy. Anna collapses, nearly exhausted, but Castiel's concern is curtailed when he senses the presence of something else – someone else. He can't define it, but it feels familiar and yet at the same time, completely new. When Anna explains, it surprises Castiel as much as it does Dean.

"Excuse me?" Dean exclaims in a harsh bark, incredulous, face turning red. "Did you just say _my mom_?"

Maybe Dean is a little more surprised.

He looks close to exploding, but Dean manages a few even words through clenched teeth. "Lemme get this straight. You bring my mom forward 35 years in time so she can help convince Sammie to turn down the devil, and then you _lose_ her in the middle of a demon attack?"

Anna flinches. "I didn't lose her. She escaped to find Sam."

"Where are they?"

"I don't know." Anna tries to appease, "But she won't be harmed. Neither side wants Mary Winchester dead."

Castiel watches as Dean's face changes, realizing the implications. Mary is the mother of two vessels, one to Lucifer and the other to Michael. Neither angels nor demons would want anything to happen to the 1974 version of her, at least before she's given birth to her sons.

"She is unique," Castiel agrees. "It's in the blood. No harm will come to her."

She may be the only person left on the planet that can lay such a claim.

* * *

Anna doesn't take the cold front from Dean as anything personal. It's been over a year and a half since she's seen Dean, but she imagines that any sense of nostalgia has taken a back seat to the revelations about his mother. They decide to make their stand in the Church, even if it isn't ideal.

As they run through their options, Dean still looks ready to explode. Or implode. Anna can't figure out which.

Castiel waits for her until he can have a quiet word. Unsurprisingly, he disapproves. "You shouldn't have disrupted the timeline unless absolutely necessary. There's no saying what this will change. She is Mary Winchester."

The name is given the same reverence as a different Mary from some two thousand years ago.

Anna shakes her head. "Trust me, I've got a good feeling about this."

Castiel stares at her. "Is there something you're not telling me, Anna?"

She lies. "No."

* * *

A flash of lightning. The bark of thunder. The wind howls with distress, and the world beneath their feet shakes and quivers. The presence of greatness makes itself known. In the distance, demons and angels alike scream and fall, and the small Church stands isolated from it all as the world screams out as one.

"Michael is here," Anna says.

Castiel knows this. "So is Lucifer."

Both with temporary vessels. Both seeking their true ones.

Dean scrubs a hand through his hair, but before Castial can add another word, steel grows in Dean's eyes and sharpens the color of them. Dean's spine stiffens and his eyes rake over the pavement and the pale sidewalk outside the Church, but there's nothing there but destruction. He removes the pale Bowie knife from his pocket, looking determined.

"You two stay here," Dean orders, beginning to stride out the door.

"Dean, wait," Castiel stops him. "Do you have a plan?"

"Whatever's gonna happen, I'm not gonna sit tight here in a Church while it goes down. My family is out there."

"You still need a plan," Anna insists.

"I'll think of one," Dean assures. "You two stay here. If anything happens to me, it's up to you both to help as many people as you can. Find the Colt and kill every one of those sons of bitches."

Dean is alone as he marches out into the darkness, striding through the dregs of civilization outside the open doors. Castiel and Anna watch, and Castiel feels a sudden fear grip him in earnest.

As one, they turn to face each other. "What do we do now?"

"Pray," Anna answers.

* * *

The prayer is supposed to begin something like this: "Our Father, Who art in Heaven." In _Heaven_. It almost seems a cruel joke to Anna, but for once she isn't cynical and judging. She lowers her eyes, and together with Castiel, she communes.

"Our Father, Who art in heaven, Hallowed be Thy Name. Thy Kingdom come. Thy Will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven."

The ground shakes again, and Anna lifts her head.

"Did you feel that?" Castiel asks, in a reverent tone.

Anna steps forward, equally reverent. "Yes. Yes, I did."

* * *

Father, it turns out, is Mother.

When they make their way to the edge of town where they find Sam and Dean, the woman who stands so elegantly beside them is humble in appearance, the same porcelain face as Mary Winchester, but the Presence inside her buckles Castiel and Anna to their knees.

Mary Winchester is the vessel of Our Lord in Heaven. There is no question of it.

The bodies of the temporary vessels of both Michael and Lucifer lay collapsed on the floor. Dean and Sam look pale as sheets, but Castiel barely notices, too overwhelmed by the form in front of him.

After all this time – _Mother_.

* * *

  
**Epilogue**

It's a different end than the one Anna imagined, but then again, it always had to be. Things change, the world moves on with cries and prayers and hope and despair, and nothing ever plays out as predicted. Mary Winchester is returned to her own timeline, memory wiped clean and soul pure. Normally the process would have left the vessel in a vegetative state afterwards, but… well, God has special mojo.

And a special plan for them all.

For the first time she has known him, Castiel has found sleep. His head rests against the naked curve of her shoulder, and his breathing is soft and even. She wonders what he dreams, but it cannot be nightmares. No, not tonight. Through ups and downs, through certainties and disbeliefs, Anna now has come to feel an unprecedented sense of peace wash over her and she knows he feels the same. For the first time in years, tears of hope prickle her eyes.

This is Salvation.

* * *

  
_fin_


End file.
